


Promise Me In A Few Years

by 707



Category: The Half of It (2020)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Class Differences, Crime Scenes, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff, Foster Care, Happy Ending, Orphans, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/707/pseuds/707
Summary: “Wait!” A hard tug on her arm turns her back around again and Aster is crying. There are tears streaming down her face from those beautiful, brown eyes now dark with anguish. Aster pulls Ellie towards her and presses her lips to hers. Her lips are as soft as the first time they kissed and Ellie swallows back a sob, pressing harder into her and kissing her back fiercely. She tastes salt mixed in with Aster’s usual sweetness, and Ellie feels like she can’t breathe. She can’t move, and certainly can’t bear to leave. Every single cell in her body screams as Aster pulls away again.“A few years. Come back to me in a few years.” Aster whispers shakily and Ellie nods.“Promise me!” Aster shakes her with a fistful of Ellie’s shirt in her hands.“I will.” Ellie whispers.Then she turns around and leaves.OrThe one where Ellie grows up an orphan and Aster is the daughter of a wealthy pastor that owns her group home. When Ellie gets herself into big trouble in the harsh Central City streets, Aster may be the only one who can help her.
Relationships: Ellie Chu & Aster Flores, Ellie Chu & Aster Flores & Paul Munsky, Ellie Chu & Paul Munsky, Ellie Chu/Aster Flores
Comments: 23
Kudos: 180





	1. the first stroke

**Author's Note:**

> hello all,
> 
> pls join me in this messy love story in which i will try my best to make sure everyone's safe & happy in the end :').
> 
> love,  
> T

It’s interesting how the world works. Some people are born in thousand-dollar birthing suites, wrapped in silk sheets, and fed through biodegradable utensils and metal straws, the silver spoons of our era. Others are plopped down in the middle of a shit hole and told to stay there for the rest of their lives, fuck progression. Where social hierarchy and systems of oppression let them down, the government picked back up with their shiny new initiatives to ‘end world hunger’ and ‘bridge the gap between rich and poor’ but hey, you can’t really complain when you’re the ‘poor’ right? These ones came out of the womb screaming instead of crying for joy.

To be fair, Ellie Chu didn’t quite start out in either of those categories, but somehow ended up in the latter anyways. Call it what you will, but she’s long since given up on fate. After all, can you really expect her to believe that it was someone’s _fate_ to be starving in the streets at that young age? That it was someone’s _destiny_ to die from a gunshot wound in one of those obscured alleyways, tucked so far into the dark side of the city that no one even noticed?

Fuck that. Ellie Chu learned from a young age that she couldn’t count on anyone but herself. It’s a fight or die world out there and somehow, she feared the uncertainty of death far more than she did a shitty life.

She taught herself how to argue, get away with things, and pretend to be innocent. When to act stupid, or perhaps more importantly, the advantages of remaining underestimated. She learned how to duck into crowds and jump high enough to clamber up low-hanging escape ladders on the side of buildings, out of reach. And those weren’t lessons she learned from some youth program she was forced to attend, or from those therapy sessions that were supposed to teach her how to behave.

It wasn’t from the government mandated public education for all orphans, either, that she first tasted the power of knowledge; it was from those books she stole off her dead best friend’s body after his drunkard father went way too far. That left her pretty scarred afterwards, if she’s being honest. She remembers how hard it was to breathe alone in her room that night, hugging those books tight, as if they held the answers as to why he was gone. He would have never wanted them to go back to his father. That’s why Ellie took one look at his crumpled body, grabbed as many as she could, and ran.

And it certainly wasn’t from the goddamn joke of a foster care system that she learned what it was like to love. The thought makes her laugh. No matter how many homes she was transferred to and “parents” that she met, she could never see past the pitying looks. How could they ever expect her to replace her real parents with people that didn’t understand her? Ones that expected her to forget or to “be normal” when her whole life she’s been living the “abnormal”? No, it wasn’t the scathing remarks from her orphanage director nor the bumbling excuses of families turning her away after they realized she was “unfixable” that taught her love. Yet it was one of the few things she didn’t learn on her own either.

She learned to love from a girl named Aster Flores.

Ellie still remembers the first time she saw her. How their eyes met across the crowded marketplace for just a brief second before she slipped away into the shadows. Even if Ellie hadn’t been already trailing them in the first place, she could not have missed Aster Flores walking down the run-down, ugly street of Central City unless she was blind.

She stuck out like a sore thumb. Against the grays and dark browns of the vendor stations and the scraggly citizens pushing and shoving to get through the crowd, Aster Flores was a splash of color. She wore a simple, teal dress, revealing and flowy in the warm summer breeze. There was a bright red purse clutched under her arm and a wide-brimmed, white sunhat sat on her curls, obscuring some of her face if she tilted a certain way. The mystery and secrecy that the hat brought was alluring, and Ellie caught more than one person looking her way. As she walked, her brown hair swayed in the wind and Ellie had watched mesmerized as she threw her head back at something her companion, a dark burly man, whispered into her ear. Yet, perhaps the most striking difference between Aster and the crowd, Ellie thought, was her posture. She carried herself with grace and a carefree nature that only money could bring, and lots of it.

Exactly how Ellie ended up in the presence of Aster Flores, with her wrist caught wrapped tightly between her fingers, she’s not exactly sure. And that was a fact she would later look back on frequently with annoyance. She had zoned in on her target, the burly companion, long ago when, in exchange for a simple pair of earrings (undoubtedly for Aster), he whipped out more than enough cash to buy the entire stand. Ellie set to trailing him easily. His carefree gait and oblivious nature made for such an easy target that Ellie had almost felt bored when she kicked a broken can towards his feet and, taking advantage of how he jumped away and yelped as a splatter of mud landed on his white pant leg, slipped her hand into his pocket and took everything she could hold—earrings, cash, and all.

She tucked the contents swiftly into the band of her underwear, having already learned how obvious it is to walk around with bulging pockets, and was triumphantly turning to disappear into the next alleyway when a hand closed around her wrist, pulling her back with surprising force.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to steal?” Says a disapproving voice. And Ellie spins around to come face to face with the girl she had been following.

Up close, her eyes are impossibly brighter, and they’re close enough for Ellie to smell the sweet perfume wafting from her body.

“I’ve been watching you.” Aster continues, steely and cold. “Return what you stole or else I’m going to have to call the police.”

Ellie just gaps at her wordlessly. She can't decide if she’s more shocked at her blatant threat or the fact that she hadn’t even noticed that she had been watched. Aster’s fingers dig painfully into her wrist, but Ellie can only stare at her flawless skin, the flush on her face from the summer heat, and the pretty pink of her lips. Ellie feels warm all over and she licks her lips unconsciously, swallowing hard. Suddenly, it’s hard to think, and Ellie’s never really had this problem before. In any other situation she would have been long gone by now- ducking into a dirty alleyway or disappearing among the rows and rows of tents in the market, but for some reason her feet are rooted to the ground. She can only stare back at the girl who is looking at her with an expression that is growing more and more confused with the passing seconds.

It’s only when the commotion from behind Aster from the burly man yelling at who she presumes he thought was at fault for his stained pants does she jolt into action, twisting her wrist out from Aster’s grasp and setting off full speed down the street. Her feet thud rapidly against the cracked pavement almost to the same beat of her heart racing in her chest. When she reaches the alleyway she’s about to turn into, Ellie chances a glance behind her and sees the small figure of Aster standing with her hands crossed in front of her staring after her with an unreadable expression on her face.

Ellie turns back around and pushes her feet to go faster, Aster’s threat echoing in the back of her mind. _Fuck fuck fuck._ She had been lucky enough to avoid a direct run-in with the police since now, despite the life of crime that she had lived. If Aster did follow through and call the police on her though, she was sure she would be taken in. They’re kind of hard to outrun forever. Ellie squeezes her eyes shut and blocks that image out of her mind as she makes her way back to the group home.

And somehow, there are no blaring sirens or tall men in uniforms chasing after her. The setting sun paints the sky pink and purple with a dash of orange, and the city is abnormally quiet. Later that night, in the privacy of her own room, she finally dares to pull out her prize. She places the pair of earrings gently on her nightstand and leafs through each bill three times in disbelief.

With shaky fingers, she counts six-hundred dollars.

//

Summer ends and school starts again. Ellie almost forgets entirely about her strange encounter with ‘the girl with the teal dress’ in her efforts to survive senior year. It isn’t even the work that has her worried (because if she’s being honest, it’s not even challenging her at this point), but rather the bullshit she has to put up with from the rest of her classmates.

“Hey Chuga Chuga Chu Chu!” A boy laughs obnoxiously. “Will you come blow on my horn?”

His friends howl with laughter and Ellie pulls her hood down lower over her face. They’re getting to That Age where sex is becoming a thing and innuendos are flying, but somehow _no one_ is using them appropriately. Then again, they don’t have to in order to get a laugh. Anything that is related to sex is funny to everyone except Ellie it seems.

She pushes past the group still cackling to themselves and makes her way past the field to the bus stop.

“Ellie! Wait up!”

She turns her head and slings her other backpack strap over her shoulder. Paul is jogging up the incline towards her with a ridiculous smile plastered on his face. Ellie turns back around and doesn’t even slow her gait. He’ll catch up to her anyways.

“Hey,” Paul says breathlessly, twisting in front of her so that he can face her while talking. He’s walking backwards, an act that he’s not especially talented at, and stumbles from time to time on uneven ground. “I heard you got top score again in science.”

Ellie grunts and rolls her eyes. “Another rumor, Paul Munsky.”

Paul is her best friend and only friend. They’re in the foster care system together and live at the same group home, so Paul understands her in a way that most don’t and never will. Even though Ellie was fully intent on getting out of the system and even the entire city by herself, Paul’s kicked puppy look after being repeatedly turned down coupled with his undiminishing persistence on becoming her friend gradually wore her down. What began as a tentative alliance through gaming the bus system together became a lasting, albeit dysfunctional, friendship. Besides, living in a group home can be kind of lonely if you don’t have someone to talk to. And Paul has gradually become one that she can trust wholeheartedly. 

“Aw come on, don’t be like that. I don’t get why you have to pretend like you don’t get perfect grades every year, Ellie. I mean I’ve seen your report card. Those grades could get you into college!”

Ellie cringes and for not the first time regrets forgetting to stash away her papers before heading to dinner. She had returned to find Paul already in her room to hang out before curfew, gawking at her report card like it was a chest of gold.

“I’m not going to college.” They’ve reached the bus stop just as the bus is turning in.

Paul frowns immediately. “Why not? You’re crazy smart! If any of us could do it, it would be you.”

Any of us meaning the group home kids she would assume. Ellie sighs, heading straight for the back of the bus where she could observe everyone without being seen. Paul plops down beside her.

“All I’m saying,” he continues, resting an arm on the seatback in front of them and leaning closer to her conspiratorially, “is you could get a _scholarship_ with those grades. And with an education you could really go places. You could make it out of here!”

“Paul,” Ellie cuts off as she slumps back into the uncomfortable bus seat, “Drop it, will you? It’s not an option for me.”

“Not an option!” Paul splutters. “With those grades, you could get into just about any state school you wanted to. How could you possibly say that?”

Ellie pushes up from her seat in one fluid motion, her hood falling from her head, and presses into Paul’s space. He automatically shifts back a little with a gulp.

“You really wanna know? Okay. Let me break it down for you. Let’s say I actually do get into somewhere with a decent program in philosophy and law. How would I get there? With what money, Paul?”

Paul sucks in his bottom lip and remains silent.

“How would I be able to afford food and a place to stay? Textbooks? What about living essentials? Okay so let’s say _somehow_ I do manage to get all of that money. Like, it just appears out of nowhere or whatever. Can you really see me fitting in with all those rich kids? We’re in a shitty public school in a shitty part of town, but in college, I’m going to be up against people who have years and years of private tutoring and whatever extracurricular experience under their belt while I’m coming in with a fat load of nothing.”

Ellie leans back once again with a sigh of annoyance. Deep down she wishes it was a possibility, but given the reality of her situation and just looking at the stats, she was never going to make it out of this city. She glances over at Paul and squirms at his dejected expression. _Damn puppy dog eyes._

With a thwack, she hits the side of his arm, making him jump. “Besides, who would be here to look after you then, you big baby?”

It doesn’t quite change the facts, but it does lighten the mood and Paul is back to grinning at her again. Ellie tilts her lips up ruefully in response.

_I appreciate you, Paul. More than I let on and more than you will ever know._

…

They arrive in the courtyard earlier than usual. The bus driver was speedy today out of all days which was unfortunately a lazy Friday with nothing really to do. They amble past the tall fences and into the open doors of their building. It wasn’t much; the brownish-red of the brick building suggested the age and long history behind it. A sign that read “SQUAHAMISH” in all caps hung proudly above the entrance. Besides the fat cross jutting proudly on top of the tower, blindingly white despite Ellie never witnessing a single incident when it was being cleaned, the group home blended into the cityscape surrounding it.

From the main entrance in the center tower five stories in height, two wings extended out and bent to form a square shape, encasing the yard almost entirely. One of the wings was split between a medical center and classrooms for residential treatment facility kids (ones that were classified as having “severe emotional, behavioral, or learning problems”). The other stretched further around and consisted of living spaces, communal for younger kids and individual rooms for those older than 13 years, a dining area, and kitchen connected. The main tower was topped with office spaces for the staff which sat above a church with rows and rows of dustless pews leading up to a single stage area. You could tell where most of the money was being channeled by watching the light filter through its pristine and colorful mosaic windows, and how the piano gleamed a golden tone from extensive polishing.

Their group home was one of the biggest in their area, the Church of Christ’s proudest donation to the city. Ellie scoffs when they announce it every year at their funding social. Whereas her room was peeling, pipes dripping, and walls perpetually permeating a musty odor into the air, the church never had a bad day. Sometimes in the winter when she felt like she was about to freeze to death from the draftiness, bundled in as many things as she could find, there were still candlelit ceremonies being held in the main tower just a hallway away.

It’s confusing at times, but Ellie pushes it to the back of her mind as she follows Paul through to the stairwell. He pushes the door open with one hand throwing a cheery hello to one of the caretakers walking past.

“Hey, did you hear that someone _finally_ took Maria home?” His voice echoed up the flights of stairs on top of their scuffling feet. “Davis looked like he was ready to explode when he signed her off.”

Paul laughs at his own statement.

“Seriously? I feel bad for them. She’ll probably be back in a few days though, give or take.”

“That’s what I thought too, but apparently they adore her. You should hear some of the stuff they bought her, sheesh. Sign me up brutha.”

Ellie hums.

“Remember when we were all jealous when Cody texted about getting a walkie talkie set we’d always wanted? Well think bigger, way bigger. Like I’m talking about _designer_ clothes, and, and giant,” he gestures wildly, “flat TV thingamajiggies.”

“Flat-screen TV’s,” Ellie mumbles instinctively.

“Uh huh, those.” Paul continues, obviously happy to have caught Ellie’s attention. “She has one of those.”

“Where do you even hear all this from?” Ellie huffs, mostly to herself as they reach the fifth floor and push open the door to the female residential halls. She doesn’t even need to ask to know that Paul was staying over for as long as he could before curfew, and maybe if they were stealthy enough, longer. They’ve been doing this for as long as she can remember.

“Oh you know. People gossip.” Paul waves it off. “I’m tight with Sofie and Maggie which were practically her best friends.”

Paul is tight with everyone, and Ellie admired and envied that in equal parts.

“Anyway, Maria’s totally sucking up out there. There’s no way that family would like her if they’d seen her in here. She’s a total devil.” Paul slaps his hand over his mouth and backpedals. “I- I mean she’s just not cool. Totally not cool.”

“He’s not gonna come for you just because you’ve said his name. Do you think the devil has time for all that?”

“Shhh, stop. Anyways, I’ve made up my mind and I support her choice because it’s either that or being booted. She’s seventeen and already so lucky that someone actually wanted her. A few more months and she would have been on the curb.”

Ellie stops to unlock her door with a click, pushing right in and making a beeline for the bed. She plops down gracelessly.

“Thank god it’s Friday,” she groans through her arm slung over her face. Paul smiles and drops his bag down on the ground before taking a seat at her desk. Ellie’s room was basically bare. Except for a bed pushed to the corner, a wobbling desk and chair set, and a nightstand with a small lamp that flickered every few minutes, her room was devoid of any types of personal belongings. Her small closet only held half its capacity of clothes which was just enough to fill a duffel bag stuffed in the corner below.

Ellie sighs and swings her bag down to join Paul’s. She pushes herself up to lean against the wall. “At least she’s gotten out of here. That’s more than we can say.”

Pauls nods. “We’re not too far from eighteen, Ellie.”

Her gut twists uncomfortably at the thought. “Still nearly a year away.”

“Yeah, but it’s certainly something to think about.”

It’s not like the topic hasn’t come up before. Since all kids were kicked out when they became of age, it was the hottest topic amongst the older kids. And Ellie can’t pretend she hasn’t thought about it once or twice as well, but each time the anxiety claws up her throat and she forces the thoughts back out of her mind.

“Nothing to do about it, anyhow. No family’s going to want to take us in at our age, so we just have to keep our heads down and figure it out ourselves. Maybe get a job. Or two.”

“Well Maria made it. I’d say there’s hope for us.”

Ellie turns away. “Not for me. I’m not going to wake up pretending like I’m fine every day for the rest of my life or become indebted to people that don’t understand the first thing about me.”

Paul doesn’t contradict her and they fall into silence. They had a good few hours to kill until dinner. Paul is obviously holding his tongue and after a bit, he speaks up again.

“You know, they say it takes five thousand dollars.” He hushes out. “Five thousand dollars and you’ll have a chance on your own. Yeah, you’d have to get a job and work really hard, but you can probably get somewhere to stay for the first year with that money and then just work for everything else. Steve did it, and his pal Al did it with less. They’re in New City together right now doing construction. It wouldn’t be much but at least you can live the way you want.”

Ellie doesn’t respond, staring at the long strands of light filtering through her shades from the single window in her room.

“And if it’s you and me both, we could take care of each other. We could make pancakes in the morning and have sleepovers every night. I’d marry you, Ellie, and we could start a family together-”

“Woah, woah.” Ellie laughs putting her hands out even as her heart burns with longing. “Let’s slow down.”

“Okay no kids yet and no marriage, but we could get our own place.” Paul sits forward with excitement. “We can do this. We really can.”

“I don’t know, ten thousand is a lot of money. Unless you have some secret stash that I don’t know about…” She trails off, letting the insinuation hang in the air between them. They both know that Paul has no such thing. He wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut about it.

“We can start now. We have an entire year.”

Ellie draws her knees up to her chest and is silent as she thinks. Five thousand dollars… Broken down, that would be about 15 dollars a day. She could make that off of writing papers for kids at school or if she had quick fingers like she did that day at the market. With a jolt, she remembers the six hundred dollars tucked safely in her sock placed in her duffle and bites her lip. At least that’s a head start.

Seeing her obvious hesitation, Paul stands.

“I know it’s a stretch, but there’s no harm in trying. If we both work hard enough this year, we can make a future for ourselves.”

He sticks out his hand towards her with his palm facing up.

“We can do this.”

Ellie stares at his hand. Slowly, she lifts hers and takes it.

“Okay.”

//

It’s getting chilly in Central City. As fall bleeds into winter, the cold winds would sweep through the church doors on days that it was open, which is most. Ellie shivers as they walk down to the dining hall and stuffs her hands into her hoodie pocket.

They’re not making much progress. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she and Paul made their pact and since then, both have been searching for any and every opportunity to get money. She offered to write a free paper for the school’s gossip girl in exchange for the word to be spread about her services, but business is slow. She hasn’t developed the reputation yet and could guarantee neither quality nor discretion at the moment. So far, she had only managed to make $20 off a desperate first year who forgot his deadline resulting in some of the most frantic typing and brainwork that Ellie has ever done. And a quick $15 off a love letter to the school’s most popular jock. Disgusting.

Paul wasn’t doing much better, though his methods were significantly more… flashy. He decided a hotdog stand was the best way to capitalize on his talents.

“I make the meanest taco sausage ever!” He had boasted one day in the dining hall.

Even though Ellie had no clue what the hell that was, she’d merely nodded along. It was such a Paul thing to come up with all sorts of strange ideas anyways.

After school he’d bring out a small cart and a few steaming sausages with wraps, all of which he had sweet-talked out of the dining staff with the promise of dishwashing duty every Friday. It wasn’t much. The cart was old and rickety, and since the weather got colder fast, most times the sausages would be cold by the time someone curious actually stopped by. Nevertheless, when Paul made his first $5 selling taco sausages to a peculiar old man (Ellie suspects by the thickness of his glasses that he had absolutely no idea what he had just bought), he’d shaken her with such enthusiasm that Ellie had no choice but to laugh in return.

But it wasn’t enough.

“How much did you bring in this week?” Paul whispers to her loudly.

“Nothing. No new clients.”

Ellie pulls up her hood and shrinks into her jacket. They’re on their way to some art class that Paul insists on going to. They sometimes get volunteers that put on events like capture the flag when it was warm enough outside or various crafts projects. They’re few and far in between, and this one popped up on a Saturday afternoon when Ellie couldn’t claim that she was busy with schoolwork. 

“Are we behind?” Paul mumbles, frowning.

“So behind. We need to think of something else.”

“But I’m all out of ideas.” Paul pouts and they turn the corner into the west wing.

Ellie huffs. “We need to find jobs, but unfortunately there’s not much open to us. I mean we’re not exactly hiring material.”

“Do you think the school has stuff open?”

“Not that I know of. Everything’s volunteer-based, so even if I sign up to be, like, a tutor or something, I wouldn’t even get paid.”

They’re approaching the open classroom doors, and lots of kids of various ages have already filled most of the seats. The volunteer stands in the middle of the room with her back turned towards them. She wore a neon yellow shirt that had “VOLUNTEER” printed on the back in big, bold lettering.

“Do you think we can ask Davis? If he’s head of Squahamish, he probably has a job board or something he can point us towards.”

Ellie opens her mouth to reply, but then the volunteer turns around to greet a kid running through the doors and Ellie stops dead in her tracks.

“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes widening in shock. In front of her, the girl from the market smiles down at a young boy and is laughing at something he said.

“What?” Paul says, “Ellie, let’s go, they’re closing the doors.”

But Ellie stays rooted to the spot, staring. She’s dressed down from her teal dress today in a pair of black ripped jeans and matching black vans. A gray beanie is pulled over her hair which is still as glossy and luscious as Ellie remembers it. Ellie can’t help but notice this time that when the girl smiles, a set of dimples press into her cheeks.

“Ellie!” Paul repeats, breaking her out of her reverie. She backs up instantly.

“Uh no. You go ahead,” she smiles a little too widely and Paul frowns. Ellie’s already half-turned and more than ready to make her escape, but Paul grabs her wrist and tugs her back gently.

“Hey,” he says with a furrowed brow. “What’s up? Tell me you’re not bailing out on me again.”

“No Paul.” Ellie whispers discretely and struggles against his hold. “I swear I’ll tell you later, but I really have to go now.”

She’s trying not to draw the attention of a certain brunette in the room, but evidently Paul is no on the same page.

“Where?” He practically booms and Ellie winces. “It’s just a painting class. One hour, Ellie.”

“I know, but it’s really not that.”

“I thought you liked painting, though?” Paul says obviously confused and Ellie manages to worm her way out of his grip. “It’ll be really fun!”

“Listen, Paul. I’m sorry, I know I said I would come with you and I promise I will make it up to you, but I just really can’t-”

“Hey.” A voice says, and Ellie raises her eyes past Paul’s towering figure and feels her stomach drop when she comes face to face with the girl leaning against the door, staring directly at her. She’s chewing on a piece of gum (mint based on its green color from where it peeps out from between her lips… not that Ellie’s looking there) and twirling a paintbrush with an unreadable expression. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re getting ready to start.”

She doesn’t spare a glance at Paul who’s openly gaping at her, but rather addresses Ellie entirely. “And your friend is right. Just one hour, and I promise I won’t make you regret it.”

The girl smiles (smirks?) at her and without waiting for an answer, spins back into the room. Ellie blinks in shock. The interaction was way too sudden and she secretly feels a little annoyed that the girl had managed to sneak up on her again. Had she not recognized her? No, but she must have. Then why hadn’t she called the police or acted like Ellie hadn’t just stole $600 from right under her friend’s nose?

“Uh. Wow. Ellie, we have to go.” Paul tugs at her arm again and this time Ellie lets herself be led into the lion’s den.

She attributes her lack of motor function as Paul drags her to the last two seats remaining at one of the long tables towards the back to the shock of course. The class is interesting, at least. Even though Ellie’s head swims a little bit after the girl introduces herself as “Aster, a senior from Westridge.” _That’s ten minutes from here!_ Aster really knows how to paint, apparently. She whips out a portrait of the girl sitting in front of her in minutes, talking through the whole process. When the painting is finished, it bears an uncanny resemblance to the muse who blushes as the rest of the class _Ooo’s_. Aster smiles.

“Today, you guys are going to paint something that motivates you— the thing that you want most.” She circles around the room towards the back.

“It can be anything.” As Aster walks towards their table and Ellie gulps nervously, glancing down at her hands folded on top of the table. Ellie sees her stop a few steps in front of her out of the corner of her eye. When she gives in and finally looks up, their gazes lock.

“A big house, fancy car.” Aster pauses and smiles. “Chocolate cookies.”

The class giggles and Aster shoots Ellie a wink. She turns back towards the front of the room again. “You have five colors each. Grab a paper and get started!”

Ellie swallows as the room bursts into action and excited chatter. _Dear God if there ever exists one, excuse my unholy existence and just let me get through this one hour in one piece!_

An hour goes by pretty quickly, in the end, if Ellie’s being honest. After getting over her initial shock, she reaches out and grabs a paper from the stack on their table. The materials area all laid out in a cluster and she and Paul divvy up their share from the other kids sitting next to them. It’s not much—the brushes are big and clumsy, and the paint was the cheap, water-based kind so that even if the kids ingested some, they wouldn’t end up sick. But Ellie was glad to be painting again. It’s not often that she got this opportunity, but art was always her favorite subject in school.

Paul doesn’t hesitate to paint a series of lopsided boxes that Ellie can only assume is meant to represent his greatest desire.

“It’s a kitchen! Can’t you tell?” Paul points at his paper excitedly. Paint was already starting to get everywhere, and he currently sported a long streak of green on his chin. “I’ve always wanted to own my own kitchen.”

Ellie smiles. Paul’s one and only dream was to be a chef, so if Ellie stuck around until then, she was sure to benefit from all the delicious creations. Her own paper was a mess of squares as well. After hesitating for way too long (“Ellie, come one! You’ve been thinking for ages!”), she finally allowed herself to confess her desires. The only red that she had at her disposal was bright and abrasive, and the green an ugly synthetic green, nothing like the leafy tone she was thinking of. Nevertheless, she squirted out a decent portion from the bottle and got to it. She let her imagination run wild. Tall brick walls with green ferns in front. Based on the pictures, she wasn’t straying too far, but here and there, her own ideas presented itself onto the paper. Blending more colors, she dabbed in the shadows and then outlined the highlights. So focused in her own world, she was completely unaware of how fast time had passed.

Finally, she leant back to survey her work, wiping paint from her nose where it had somehow gotten in her quest to illustrate her dream.

“Wow!” Paul exclaims, and Ellie is startled back from where her mind wandered. “You really can do anything.”

Kids were bustling about, having already finished their work and filed in line to use the sink. Paul was leaning over her painting excitedly and when she leaned back even more, she was startled to find Aster seated on the table next to her, focused on her painting as well. Her legs were crossed in front of her and Ellie observes that she, too, was not immune to the messy nature of paint, with a couple streaks presenting themselves on her hands and upper arms.

“I see you went the ‘big house’ route,” she comments, amused, and Ellie has a weird urge to impress her all of a sudden.

“No, not quite.” Ellie picks up her thinnest paintbrush again (which was not that thin) and brings it back down to the paper. In quick strokes, she adds the crest engraved on the top of the arch. “Boston College.”

If she weren’t already looking up at Aster’s face, she would have missed the subtle bit of surprise flitting across her features, but Ellie saw little else. Aster smiles.

“I see you’re not aspiring to live a life of crime after all,” she finally says.

Ellie flushes and she has no idea what to say to that, but luckily she’s spared the trouble because Paul saves the day.

“Hi, Aster! You’re super cool, I mean, your paintings are super cool. But you are too. I mean, well, do you take classes?”

“Yeah.” Aster answers easily, laughing a little at his bumbling. “My uncle owns a studio actually, and he expects me to put some of my pieces up for next Wednesday’s show. If you guys are free, you should stop by. The more friendly faces, the merrier.”

Just as Ellie was opening her mouth to refuse, Paul beats her to it. “Yeah! Of course, we’ll be there.” He elbows Ellie into agreement. “Where’s it going to be? Wow, I’ve never been to an art show before.”

Aster gives them an address and laughs again at Paul’s wide eyes when he says “That’s right above Sed’s Sausages!”

They stay behind as kids file out the doors while Aster shares more details about the show. The classroom gradually empties out and as the last two kids trickle out, the three of them are left in silence—a delightfully comfortable one if you’d ask Paul, tense and awkward if you’d ask Ellie. Finally, Aster stands, glancing at her watch.

“Well, I better get going. It was nice meeting you…”

“Paul,” he says with a wide grin.

“Paul,” Aster repeats and switches her gaze over to Ellie. “And…?”

Ellie meets her gaze steadily. For a minute she considers lying to preserve her identity, just in case this all turned out to be an elaborate plan to catch her and Aster really did end up turning her in to the police. But… Aster’s eyes are yet a different color—warm and honey brown in the afternoon sun. They’re trained directly on Ellie’s and she shivers. Something about Aster’s gaze felt like it bore into her very soul, but she dismisses the thought without a second thought.

“Ellie.”

“Ellie…” Aster repeats, tilting her head like she’s thinking. Ellie watches her tongue trace over the syllables and feels herself grow hot again. Seemingly coming to a conclusion, she says, smiling, “Well it was nice meeting you, Paul and Ellie. Hopefully this won’t be the last time we see each other.”


	2. the second stroke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aster becomes a fixture in Ellie's life and for a while things start looking up. Then, winter comes and Ellie's carefully constructed system comes crumbling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya! it's the last day of API month and as a hugeee music fan, i'd just like to share this playlist i made of asian american musicians that would appreciate any support they can get.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/01in4G0v95kSfRA4uHD0Gn?si=1culHThTTwu4HqzJn9NcQQ
> 
> i resonated with 'the half of it' because i was seeing myself being represented not only as a queer individual, but also as a queer asian. in a movie directed by an asian writer and sponsored by a mainstream media-service provider nonetheless. i'm so proud and happy that this demographic is finally getting some representation!

It’s not the last time they see each other. Not by far. Paul practically carries her over to the art studio on Wednesday with an eagerness that is beginning to wear on Ellie’s nerves.

“She’s so _pretty._ I think about her all the time. When I’m brushing my teeth or getting ready to sleep, and even when I’m eating disgusting Sloppy Joe in the dining hall.”

He sighs dreamily as they walk along the dusty sidewalk into the better part of the city. “I can’t believe out of all the volunteers we could have gotten, we got her.”

Ellie silently agrees. Seeing Aster in the middle of that classroom had almost gave her a heart attack.

“Do you think we’ll see her? I want to tell her about how I found that art magazine in Davis’s office yesterday.”

Ellie sighs, scanning the streets to see if their turn was approaching.

“Seriously, the stuff in there is beautiful! I mean, I couldn’t really tell the difference between all of them, but I think she’ll like some of the portraits, don’t you?”

“Yes Paul,” Ellie snaps, “I’m sure she’ll like your dusty magazines and take time away from the people that are looking to buy her paintings—her _customers,_ just to talk to _us._ ”

Paul recoils immediately. She doesn’t mean to come off as moody, but meeting with Aster again was taking yet another unnecessary risk. Especially without knowing where Aster stands on her stealing off of her friend and the confusion surrounding why she hasn’t turned Ellie in yet, she ran the risk of being turned in with every interaction. And it was stressing her out.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snappy, I just,” she sighs. “Didn’t really expect to see her at Squahamish is all.”

Paul’s face fills with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I kind of… met her before all this.” Ellie mumbles. “I, um, I stole off of her at the market a few months ago.”

They were a turn away from Sed’s Sausages and the studio, and it seemed like they were in an entirely different city. The streets were clean and the sides of buildings were no longer dark with the accumulation of filth. Tables outside were no longer chained down and stores have enough trust to leave their doors open to business and casual passerbys. It was beautiful in comparison to Central City and Ellie finds herself yearning.

“You _what?”_ Paul all but yells at her. “And you got caught?”

“Shhh.” They were no longer in their part of the city and over here, people glanced over at the slightest disturbance.

“Sorry, sorry. But why didn’t you tell me before? I would have never forced you to come to that stupid painting class!”

“Well I was trying, but you were excited and… I just thought maybe I should try my luck a little longer. She hasn’t turned me in yet hasn’t she?” Ellie replies sheepishly. “Even though she had plenty of opportunities to.”

Paul just shakes his head. They arrived at Sed’s Sausages which was already bustling due to the extra business that the show brought in. Ellie didn’t have to go up the stairs to know that it was going to be packed. People milled about on the side of the street near the staircase talking with one another and laughing.

“Woah. Everyone’s dressed _really_ nicely.” Paul says, eyes running through the crowd. Both of them stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed in oversized sweaters and jeans. There were men with suit jackets, neat button downs, and khaki slacks, and women with fur coats, long dresses, and bright lipstick. Everyone seemed to tower over them menacingly and Ellie starts to wonder if money made people bigger as well, physically inflating them with wealth that wraps around like armor— bullet proof.

“Maybe we should go.” Ellie mutters, and Paul gulps nervously. But it’s like she’s said the magic word because suddenly, someone taps on her arm and she spins around to see Aster beaming at them.

“You came!”

“We… did.” Ellie says at the same time Paul says, “Wouldn’t have missed it!”

Ellie rolls her eyes at him when he’s not looking.

“Well, are you going to come in?” Aster asks, and that’s how Ellie finds herself being dragged through the door as Aster squeezes past several mumbling guests standing out on the staircase. Secretly, Ellie is glad to have made it indoors where the chilly air can’t whip at her face any longer and she huffs out a breath, feeling the warmth return to her cheeks.

The staircase is narrow and they’re forced to walk single file with Aster leading, Ellie following, and Paul bringing up their rear. They push up the last few steps to a door on the left side where, from the awkward angle Ellie is ascending, she can make out a glimpse of a row of picture frames with paintings blocked by groups of viewers. It seems quite small, but after stepping in, Ellie’s mouth drops because where the studio lacked in width, it made up in length. Rows and rows of art lined the walls, some paintings, others photography, and there were even some 3D pieces.

“Wow.” Ellie says under her breath, so utterly mesmerized by the amount of exploring available to her and so busy scanning the room that she doesn’t notice Aster watching her.

Paul has already shuffled forwards seemingly under the same spell as Ellie. He crosses the room and pauses next to one of the 3D pieces protruding out of the wall. There’s a little white slip taped to the wall, no doubt an explanation of the piece to which he pays no mind. The piece is certainly… fascinating. Dark copper wires as thick as Ellie’s fingers tangle to form a cylindrical object with a cap on the end. Honestly, Ellie thinks it kind of looks like a…

Paul turns back towards them after craning his head to get a good look.

_Wow._ He mouths, pointing at the piece. It was impossible to hear him with the space between them and Ellie’s legs still glued to the ground.

_Sausage?_ Ellie reads.

She glances at Aster and sees her biting her lip to keep back a smile. They turn towards each other, laughing silently. A boy with curly hair, square glasses, and a collared shirt tucked into his pants comes up to Paul and sticks out his hand which Paul bewilderingly shakes.

“That’s the artist. Colin.” Aster murmurs. “I’m sure he’ll tell him all about his… sausage.”

Ellie huffs out a laugh at that, shaking her head as she watches Colin wave his hands in the air. He really didn’t waste any time. People mill about, usually in groups, chattering among themselves and the general vibe of the gallery is rather homey. A young woman tugs a man along eagerly but the hand and for a moment, Paul and Colin are completely obscured.

“Do you want to see my section?” Aster asks, almost timidly Ellie notices as she turns back, with her hands crossed behind her.

Ellie nods and Aster smiles. Once again, Ellie finds her wrist wrapped in Aster’s fingers as she tugs Ellie towards the other side of the studio. White walls serve as dividers and don’t extend all the way across the entire width of the studio. They separate the room into sections, allowing visitors to walk freely from exhibit to exhibit. But Ellie hardly notices the paintings and people milling about, so focused on the way Aster’s fingers are burning into her skin.

If you’d told her that she would be willingly walking through a room filled with rich people and expensive art, she would have laughed her ass off. The Ellie Chu’s of this world weren’t supposed to interact with the Aster’s and Colin’s, and Ellie thinks that the very fact that she is standing in this room must have still been left unprocessed by her brain because there is no logical explanation for how she isn’t out the door by now. The net value packed into just this one section would probably be enough to put her through college and the sheer wealth stands out so much that Ellie can almost smell its stench, acrid and unpleasant, through her nose.

They stop at the very end of the studio where there’s a door on one side that’s marked “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL” in menacing sans-serif font. The door itself blends in well with the rest of the wall, however, and Ellie wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the glint of a door handle and matching silver hinges. A gentle tug on her hand brings her attention back to the girl in front of her and with a start, Ellie realizes that she’s talking.

“-but at least they’re finished. What do you think?” Aster turns around to look at her nervously.

And for the first time, Ellie lets herself take in the rest of the section, less crowded with pieces this time. Five tall paintings and one small one line the wall, evenly spaced, and small descriptions stick right next to each. This section is a lot quieter as most of the people group towards the entrance, leaving them alone except for the company of an elder couple surveying the piece farthest from them. Ellie takes a step towards the one hanging directly in front of her and stares. It’s… well, it’s amazing.

It’s an oil painting this time, unlike the cheap acrylics Aster had used at Squahamish. Bold, solid tones blended together in swirls, each stroke distinct enough to give texture to the painting, yet complimentary to its surrounding strokes such that they all come together to form a cohesive image. It’s a vase filled with sunflowers against a grassy field larger than any Ellie has ever witnessed herself. The flowers are craning upwards, but away from the sun, Ellie notes, as if it were too blinding. The painting itself is filled with colors so bright that it was getting hard for Ellie to keep looking at it, so she moves to the next one.

One by one, she moves down the row of paintings, slowly, afraid of missing even the smallest detail. Aster trails behind her silently, letting her take in the artwork on her own.

The first one is the only painting that is bright. All of the other ones use muted, pastel tones that feature scenes unlike any she had seen in the city. Rolling plains of green, blots of colorful flowers, tall trees swirling with earthy tones and so bumpy with texture that Ellie is tempted to reach out and touch it. She pauses next to one of the larger paintings. Her gaze scans over the hills upon hills of green and the blue sky with fluffy white clouds. It was such a stark contrast to the usual city palette that Ellie catches herself wondering what Aster’s inspiration could have been. _Where is this?_ _I’ve never seen anything like it before._

It’s like Aster can read her mind or maybe Ellie had simply been standing next to this painting for a really long time (she’d lost track), but for the first time Aster speaks up.

“They’re of my grandparent’s house in Portland. I grew up there before I moved to the city for high school.” She regards the paintings fondly and Ellie can practically see the memories in her mind swirling around the room. “I miss it sometimes.”

Ellie swallows. She’d love to be living somewhere like _that_ instead of this city.

“They’re really good.” Ellie turns towards Aster again who is still caught in her own world. “Great. Amazing, actually.”

She stumbles over her words and flushes. That breaks Aster from her thoughts and she faces Ellie with a smile. “Good, maybe. Great? I wouldn’t say so yet.”

Ellie quirks an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, has anyone ever told you what the difference between a good and great painting is?”

“I don’t think so, no. Though Gustave Courbet would say it’s whether he painted it or not.”

Ellie catches the brief flicker of surprise on her face before Aster laughs, bright and abrupt. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was talking to an art connoisseur.”

“I read.” Ellie shrugs and her lips tilt upwards.

“Well, I’m going to have to contradict Mr. Courbet,” Aster laughs. “Because I was taught that the difference between a good painting and a great painting is the five boldest strokes.”

Ellie frowns. Behind them the old couple shuffles out of Aster’s section, leaving them alone. In the back of her mind she wonders what time is it and frets that they’ve stayed too long and are now going to get into trouble for missing dinner. Impatiently, she pushes that out of her mind. _Davis will have to deal with this being the one day out of the year in which I might not be present at dinner._

“How do you know which strokes those are?”

“You don’t. You just have to be bold and make those strokes that you think will be the best and if you make too little or too many or just the wrong ones, you ruin the whole painting.” Aster has turned back to the canvas again with a small frown, as if she is frustrated with the fact that is not perfect, yet indecisive on whether or not it would be a good idea to continue adding to it. “That’s why so many artists are just average. They’re not willing to ruin something that’s already good for something that could be better.”

“I didn’t at least.” She mumbles. “I’m too afraid of ruining everything, even though I admit there is a certain appeal to it.”

Then, turning back towards Ellie suddenly, she asks, “I mean, have you ever just known that something you do could ruin everything, and then said ‘fuck it’ and done it anyways?”

Ellie meets her eyes steadily and gulps. She runs her gaze over the beautiful curls framing Asters face and her clear, smooth skin. Trails across the space between her two dimples and the pink of her lips. _Meeting you again, voluntarily, even though you still might turn me in because strangely, we’ve never talked about that day I stole $600 from your friend, even though we both are clearly aware of it. Does that count?_

Unfortunately, Ellie doesn’t get an answer because she never gets the chance to ask the question. In that moment, Paul comes barging in, face so red that Ellie actually looks at him in concern.

“Oh my god.” He whisper-shouts. “Did you see that statue in the front? The one with the wires I was standing under? I thought that was a sausage, but it was supposed to be a condom!”

Aster laughs at his mortified expression and Ellie has to join in. The look on his face is too priceless. They spend the next few minutes walking with Paul down the row of Aster’s paintings again and listening as he comments on each one enthusiastically. Aster blushes at his praise and Ellie has to look down as something funny twists itself into her stomach. She gives them both a little space, trailing a little behind as Paul points excitedly to different parts of the paintings and Aster explains her inspiration to him. He looked at the luscious landscapes with a similar level of awe as Ellie and Ellie smiles to herself as she sees, not for the first time, how similar they truly are on the inside. Eventually, Ellie checks her watch and realizes that it’s time they head back. Paul bounds down the stairs like a child, taking a deep breath of fresh air at the bottom. That boy could not be kept indoors for long. There are more people marching up the stairs and Ellie has to wait her turn. When the last person pushes past her, she gets ready to descend, but a hand on her arm stops her.

“Wait.” Ellie turns around and finds Aster digging in her pocket for something before she pulls out a card.

“I’m sorry that we spent so much time in my section. You didn’t even get a chance to see the other paintings!” Aster hands her the card and on it, Ellie can see her contact information printed in neat, black letters. “If you ever want to check out everything else, I’m here working in the back room most days after school. You can stop by if you’d like or you can just text me. I… really enjoyed talking to you today.”

If Ellie looks closely, maybe she could see a light dusk of pink across Aster’s cheeks, but she doesn’t and instead, reaches out to take the card and tucks it safely into her coat pocket.

“See you, Aster.” Ellie shoots her a smile that feels a little awkward, and bounds down the stairs after Paul, face completely red.

//

A week goes by and she doesn’t text her. She really doesn’t.

Until Paul does.

“Well, if you’re still not going to do it, give me her number because I want to send her pictures of that art magazine.” Paul reaches out across her lap for the card, but Ellie snatches it away.

“Nuh uh, she gave it to me in case we wanted to go back and keep looking at all the art, don’t abuse it.” And even more pressingly, even though she didn’t dare think, Aster might have given the card to her because she wanted to hear from Ellie, not anyone else.

“I won’t, I won’t. I’m just going to send one picture and maybe a ‘hi Aster.’ But also I should probably write ‘this is Paul Munsky from Squahamish’ or else she won’t know it’s me.”

It’s only because he’s stretching so far into her space that they’re threatening to topple out of Ellie’s rickety bed that Ellie gives in.

“Fine.” She places the card gently in his hand, cringing as he crinkles it immediately as shifts to take out his phone from his back pocket. Ellie watches his fingers dash rapidly across the screen and finally blue text boxes balloon out in the window.

Ellie groans as the blue boxes grow more and more. “Paul, you said one text.”

He grins up at her sheepishly and Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Okay, now that you’re done disturbing my peace, let’s keep reading for a bit longer before lights out.”

“Okay.”

He picks up his book, a dusty and cracked version of the Grimm’s fairy tales that they found under a pile of donations. Ellie, herself, is reading _Wuthering Heights_ in which she still struggles to decide on whether or not she detests or relates to Heathcliff. _Maybe both. They’re not entirely mutually exclusive after all._ Besides her, Paul shifts anxiously. Ellie frowns into her book and buries herself deeper into the covers, determined to get through Part 1 tonight. She only has 30 more pages to go and that could hardly be another 15 more minutes of reading for her. But then of course, she had to take into account that reading with Paul meant it would take her twice as long as usual, but 30 minutes still puts her just under curfew time.

“Do you think I overwhelmed her?” Paul frets.

“Probably.” Ellie mumbles, eyes still rapidly scanning the page. She’s only halfway down when Paul interrupts her again.

“Do you think she’ll reply?”

Ellie sighs, letting her book flop down on her lap. “She will. I was just teasing. She’s probably just in the middle of something right now.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, honestly. Whatever rich people do in their free time.”

“So like,” Paul scrunches up his face thinking, “Reading?”

Ellie laughs. “Sure. Definitely. Although I was thinking more expensive things like… I don’t know, burning last week’s clothes ‘cause they’re out of style or… driving around sports cars with the mufflers off.”

Paul wrinkles his nose. “Do you think you’d like those things even if you were rich, Ellie.”

“No,” Ellie grins at him and he grins back.

“Neither would I.”

The shrill ding from Paul’s phone blares out into the room and they both dive towards the device. Paul grabs it first and fumbles to unlock the home screen, smirking at how her eagerness betrayed her in the moment. “Thought you said you didn’t want to text her?”

Ellie flushes and glares at him. “Well, now that you have, I want to know what she said.”

They both huddle over the screen.

_Paul: Hey Aster!! It’s Paul from the other day [grinning emoji]_

_Paul Munsky_

_Paul: The one from Squahamish haha_

_I_ _found this art mag that I thought you’d like, look at all the cool portraits!! [smiling emoji] [smiling emoji]_

_[image attached]_

_Anyways just wanted to say hi!!!!_

_Aster: Haha, hello Paul! Did you get my number from Ellie?_

Ellie groans into the blankets bunched around her. “Thanks a lot. Now she’s going to think that I’m going around giving her number to random people.”

“Why don’t you just text her yourself and explain then?” Paul responds, grinning. He was already typing away at his reply and Ellie mumbles something under her breath about how every act of care is an inadvertent risk.

“What is she saying? I don’t get it.” Paul furrows his eyebrows and stares at the screen like it had transformed into a complex math problem. Ellie peeks up from her blankets to see him with his head cocked and fingers stalled, hovering over the screen like goal posts.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. She’s going on about some animals and phantoms?”

Ellie frowns and grabs the phone from him.

_Paul: Did you like the pictures?_

_Aster: They’re amazing! The fourth one is so moving. Reminds me of the summer_

_“They crossed before the sun like burnt phantoms with legs of the animals kicking up the spume”_

Ellie scrolls up and glances at the painting. Before she could even register her actions, she was already typing back a response.

_Paul: Cormac McCarthy._

_Not a usual summertime fantasy though. Unless you’ve spent summers engaging in gang violence?_

Ellie waits as the three dots seem to appear and then disappear many times over. She bites her lip, thinking maybe she had gone too far in accusing her of crime when she was probably over there remembering the market.

_Aster: Ha! Definitely did not appear in my summer plans and never will. But for such a horrific storyline, his writing is really beautiful. Better than high-school level us?_

_Paul: Maybe. Who’s to say we won’t reach his level one day?_

_Aster: We certainly can. But for now, we’ll just have to enjoy his well-painted imagery._

_Paul: Well-painted yes. But also maybe not good enough to beautify scalp-hunting._

_Aster: Definitely not._

_Paul: Then I rest my case._

Ellie is still smiling to herself when she clicks the phone off and tosses it onto the bed in between them. It’s only when she glances at Paul to find him staring at her weirdly does she school her expression back to her natural pout.

“What?”

“Uh,” Paul stops, shaking his head “No, no, nothing.”

Ellie huffs, tugging her book back onto her lap. She decides to let it slide this time because she really _really_ wants to finish this last part and her time is almost running out. Paul stands and stretches, a series of cracks filling the room. He yawns and reaches under his shirt to scratch his stomach.

“I’m gonna head back. Coach made us run extra drills today and I’m burnt.”

“Okay.” Ellie says, glancing away from her book momentarily. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, goodnight Ells.”

The lights click off after some point, but Ellie has already managed to finish the end of part one. She’s tucked in, listening to the dull humming of the power generator whir through the walls, and lets herself drift off to sleep. It’s only in the morning does she click off her alarm and find a text from an unknown number displayed on the cracked screen.

_Aster: Next time, text me from your own phone._

//

She doesn’t mean for it to happen, but somehow, they start texting every day. Ellie’s heart had flipped when Aster admitted to asking Paul for her number because “you obviously weren’t going to text me yourself, so of course I had to do all the work.” And it was getting harder and harder to maintain her usual guarded grounds when it came to dealing with pretty girls and rich people, both categories of which Aster fell into.

They talk about random things: school, literature, food, what they did that day. Never anything serious, but at some point, Ellie starts looking forward to, no, _craving_ their interactions. She sits in class staring at the clock, wishing impatiently for the hands to move faster, gives up reading in lieu of texting Aster late into the night, and for the first time since grade school, misses the opening line to the yearly _The Godfather_ showing in the recreation room because Aster was in the middle of a dramatic rendition of her latest tutoring session with an especially annoying boy.

Things in Ellie’s life dramatically improved during that brief period before winter fully hit. First, the school cancelled their volunteer-based tutoring program because the head tutor was caught having inappropriate relations with one of the girls he was tutoring. A flood of business presented itself to Ellie just a few hours later and _damn_ if rich people didn’t move fast. It’s like they get worried when there’s nowhere to burn their money, as if without the consistent funnel of cash flowing out of their pockets, they would simply swell up like a balloon and burst.

Ellie was happy to take their money, and she found herself working harder than she has ever worked, tutoring two or three or sometimes even four kids a day before taking the bus home just in time to catch dinner and work on her own homework before passing out and starting the day again. But she was bringing in _bank_ , like $60 a day on average. Whatever time she had left, she would spend with Paul, planning out their new life at one of the public library computers. Paul didn’t have the same amount of luck as Ellie, but she was never gladder to have him as her family. They've never fully said the words, but that’s what they were to each other because they always had each other’s back. She could tell that he was getting more and more antsy, though, when Ellie’s total savings continued to increase in the notebook they were using to keep track while his remained the same or sometimes even decreased when he gave into a particular desire and splurged. It was almost always food.

That was another place that Ellie trumped him. Not only was she fortunate enough to have a pretty stable source of earnings, she also was the master of saving. Not a penny left her hands once she had managed to get ahold of it. Whatever cravings, be it Yakult from the Chinatown grocery store on sale or the yummy Peking chicken cheaper by the pound, Ellie let go of it all. There was nothing more important than finding a place for herself.

The other thing going for her was that she had been accepted into a special program that her high school provided to pay for college applications of students from low-income families. Paul had picked her up, yelling so loud that Davis himself had come running to the room.

“Ellie’s gonna get into college!” Paul had yelled at him excitedly, with Ellie still slung over his shoulder, beating his back to let her back down.

But she must have had extra adrenaline pumping through her blood from all that spinning because she actually sat down and registered to several college application portals after Paul had finally set her down.

And, of course, there was Aster. Ever-supportive Aster who encourages her to apply to colleges and sends her pictures of her cat. (Many of those pictures were saved in her phone. Because she likes the cat of course, not the human wrapped around it.) And deny as she might, Ellie was slowly, but surely getting over her fear of Aster turning her in (which is still alarming, don’t get her wrong, Ellie is still very much prepared for the worst), and gradually accepting that what they have between them is slowly developing into a full-blown friendship. It’s unlike anything she has known before—Ellie had always been a bit of a loner growing up, with the exception of Paul’s friendship of course. But having someone else to talk to, someone who didn’t already know _everything_ about her since she was just a snot-faced kid in baggy clothes, was... refreshing, good, great even.

_Aster: So I was thinking on your non-religious tendencies. What do you believe in then if you don't believe in god?_

_Ellie: You make it sound like a crime._

_Aster: Ellie, it's a sin._

_Ellie: Haha_

_I don't know i'm just a heat han._

_Heater_

_Heathen_

_Why can't I type that word._

_Aster: It's God telling you that you're doing wrong._

Ellie rolls her eyes at the screen, laughing quietly. Paul turns to look at her, scooping more fries into his mouth and chewing loudly.

"Who are you talking to?" He asks, trying to peek at her phone. She turns it away from him and pushes his shoulder lightly. 

"None of your business." She says, still smiling.

"Okay." He pouts, rolling his eyes and turning back to his food. "Whatever."

Ellie doesn't really hear him, already looking down at her screen again.

_Aster: Haha, I'm just teasing_

_Come back_

_Ellie: Sorry, Paul was distracting me._

_He'd agree with you though._

_Very religious, that boy._

_He was Jesus in the school play._

_Aster: Oh gosh, truly a horrifying thought_

_But I do find it necessary to tell you that I played Eve in our church's rendition of Adam and Eve_

_My costume was literally a giant cotton ball because Eve didn't have clothes and I couldn't show up naked so they made me wear clouds_

Ellie full-on laughs at that. The thought of little Aster rolled into a ball of cotton was just too endearing. 

"Who is it?" Paul whines, craning to see her phone again. 

She clicks it off and slides it into her pocket, shaking her head at him and going back to the meal in front of her. And for the first time, she doesn't really notice how bland the patty is or how soggy the fries turned out.

//

But like all good and prosperous periods, the calm before the storm, it’s very short-lived and things come crumbling fast.

It begins like this: fall bleeds into winter. The temperature drops like crazy, and the clothes that she was getting from donations weren’t enough. It’s so bad this year that reports of the “coldest winter” in the City are being circulated on all sorts of platforms. Ellie sees it on the TV in the recreation room.

It’s only the beginning of November and it’s already so cold that her hands are turning purple and she’s waking up shivering with massive headaches. Finally, when Paul gets pneumonia and hacks up a lung in the medical center, Ellie’s resolve cracks and for the first time, she opens the carefully sealed envelopes of cash in her duffle and buys them both thick jackets, hats, gloves, and an extra pair of pants. It cost her $150 in total from the local thrift store, but when Paul gets better after two long weeks in bed, his tired smile is enough to make it worth it.

The homeless population is dying on the streets. There’s nowhere to go and the shelters have long since filled up. So when Ellie walks past an old man crying in the alleyway, she grits her teeth, marches back, and hands him a $20 for warm food and a chance to survive another day.

And when that envelope opens, it’s hard to shut again. Ellie finds the money slipping through her fingers like water.

Then, she’s the one that gets sick, and for a week, she’s unable to attend school much less than tutor kids. Even if she could physically get out of bed, there was no way the parents would let her anywhere near their kids. Paul sits with her patiently, telling her that it’s fine because she needed to take a break anyways. Nevertheless, her throbbing head, the thick mucus suffocating her, and the _goddamn persistent cold_ was just a constant reminder of how much of a set-back this was and hot tears pour down her cheek. Paul grabs her hand and slides into bed with her, wiping away her tears carefully. He reminds her that he's there for her- that they're family and they'll get through it together. It was just so stupid when, in her 17 years of existence, things were finally going right, the universe has to remind her that the happiness she has is only temporary, like she’s running on borrowed success. It’s just so hard sometimes—that’s it.

She recovers though, like she always does: miraculously. Then she pushes out of her bed and doesn’t look back on the past month that they’ve lived through. But then her business slows. The booster clubs fundraises for the return of volunteer tutoring with the condition that a new head tutor be selected. Even though Ellie is singlehandedly tutoring about half of the demand for tutors, she simply doesn’t have the capacity to deal with the other half. News comes out second week of November and Ellie swears the entire way home. If the onslaught of cold weather threw a wrench in their plans, the loss of their entire source of income practically threw any hope of living on their own out the window.

And maybe it’s the fact that it was speed bump after speed bump for a long while now that she hesitates when Aster full on asks her one day to come see her at the studio.

_Aster: What are you up to rn?_

_Ellie: I have tutoring in five._

_Aster: And after? Thought you said business was slowing, Ms. Rise-And-Grind._

Which, okay, intensely hypocritical, because Aster worked just as hard as Ellie. It’s not her fault that Aster is having a slow week while Ellie is just getting back into it. Nevertheless, Ellie bites her lip to keep back the grin that’s threatening to spread across her face.

_Ellie: Only one today._

_Aster: Oooh okay._

Ellie watches as Aster types and then stops, and then starts again.

_Aster: You should come visit me at the studio. I’ll be there until late night._

Ellie closes her eyes, exhaling forcefully. She has to admit that it tempts her. In truth, she wants nothing more than to see Aster after a long week of work on work on more work, and just lean her head on her shoulder as they discuss more classics and the wonders of the world. But the reality is that their worlds are so different, and right now, the world of Ellie Chu is on fire.

_Ellie: I’m sorry, but I can’t. Paul and I have to study._

She’d hoped Aster would drop it, but she doesn’t miss a beat.

_Aster: Hmm, more of this mysterious studying. Are you two up to no good again?_

Ugh. If only she knew. Ellie shakes her head as the classroom door creaks open. Her 3 o’clock appointment was here.

_Ellie: Always. But then again what could we get up to in the grand scheme of things._

_Aster: Plotting my murder? I know you’re fond of Belle. Maybe you’re trying to get me out of the way so that you can get her all to yourself._

Ellie actually laughs out loud at that. Planning to steal a cat was the last thing on her very long list of things to do, but before she can reply, a throat clears from beside her. Ellie looks up and sees her ‘student’ standing by the door, clearly unsure whether or not to sit down yet.

“Hi Maria, come sit. Sorry I was just texting… a friend.” Ellie says, pocketing her phone. The girl shuffles forwards, still looking at her weirdly and Ellie touches her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Maria says. She adverts her eyes and drops her bag to the ground. “I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

Ellie frowns. “What?” She’s sure she must have… Then again, these few weeks have been tough.

“Sorry.” Maria mumbles, clearly picking up on Ellie’s discomfort. “Didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just, you look a lot prettier when you laugh.”

Ellie flushes and takes in the bright blue of her eyes and her sparkly lip gloss. Honestly, Maria’s a pretty girl if Ellie were forced to evaluate. Her phone vibrates on the table again and it startles her. Ellie makes no comment and moves to click off the screen.

“Is that someone special you’re texting then?” Maria asks casually while stooping down to grab her notebook.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ellie mutters distractedly, mind back on the task at hand and fingers pulling her hair back so that she can redo her pony tighter. Back to business.

//

By far the worst thing that happens reveals itself when she sees Paul later that day with his head ducked under the bed as he rummages for something.

Ellie never knocked, simply let herself in most days and today is no different. She slips in quietly and takes in the heavily decorated room. Compared to hers, Paul’s room is an entirely different universe. Posters line the walls, covering any free space. Letters and pictures are stuck in between the cracks and scattered across his desk. Trinkets, toys, and other junk that he’d taken a liking to are piled up in various corners of the room and clothes are strewn all over the bed. Even though it’s far too messy for Ellie’s taste, she still enjoys how undeniably homey the place feels, much warmer and more welcoming than the barren space of her own. The night-lamp is on, but a thin jacket is draped over it because it’s after curfew and any sign that they’re awake could get them in trouble with Davis.

The door closes with a gentle click behind her. “What are you doing?”

Paul’s head jerks up and hits the underside of the bed with a thwack.

“Ow! Ellie,” He hisses in pain and grabs his head with both hands. “What are you doing here?”

Packets of… something spill onto the ground and Ellie doesn’t get a chance to take a good look before Paul snatches them and shoves them back into a bag that Ellie has never seen before. The fact that she doesn’t recognize it should have been the biggest clue that it meant trouble because spending over 13 years together meant that all of Paul’s stuff was basically hers.

“What do you mean what am I doing? Today’s Thursday, our planning night.” Ellie pads over to him as he gives up trying to zip up the bag and pushes it further under his bed, out of sight.

“Sorry, I totally forgot.” He looks anywhere but at her and Ellie narrows her eyes.

“What is that?” She reaches a foot under the bed and nudges at the package.

“Nothing.” Paul says, a beat too fast. He rubs his head absentmindedly. “Coach gave us some new apparel and I was just trying it on.”

“Oh, okay. Can I see?”

“Uhh,” Paul stands from his crouched position and moves to clear a space on the bed for their planning session. “It’s nothing new. It’s just the same one as the one I have in my closet… well, the one on my bed.”

Ellie scoffs. “Paul, you’re literally always so excited to get new apparel. Let me just-”

She squats down and reaches for the bag, but Paul’s hand shoots out with surprising speed and wraps around her wrist. She looks up and his face has lost all the mirth and gentleness that she has known from Paul since grade school.

“I’m serious, Ellie.” He says. “Drop it.”

And a part of her wants to. His fingers loosen around her wrist as she nods once, and Ellie stands slowly. But just as he makes a move to step back, a flurry of movement has him back into her space, hands grabbing hers again. But that was the plan all along and with a swipe of her leg, foot looping into one of the bag straps, she jerks the bag out from the darkness and into the dull light of the lamp. Packets and packets of white powdery substance spills onto the ground in a trail from the main source and Paul curses loudly.   
  


His hands let go of hers as he immediately stoops down with his arms held wide, shielding the bag from her with his body.

“NO!” He yells and starts talking at a thousand words per minute. Ellie makes out two large packs of white flour surrounded by a thick layer of clear wrap. Illegible scrawl is sharpied across the front. Ellie’s mind is reeling and she has almost entirely tuned out Paul’s chattering. She advances slowly and Paul’s eyes widen and he waves his arms around more frantically like cornered prey. She barely registers the footsteps outside.

“Shut up, Paul.” Ellie hisses urgently. They made too much noise. Paul doesn’t seem to hear her, still spewing random sentences that Ellie can’t be bothered to try and make sense out of right now. “I’m serious. Paul, we’re-”

Loud knocking reverberates throughout the room effectively sending them both into silence. Then, they both move at once, together, and they’re a team again. Ellie tugs open the closet door and spins inside, leaving a tiny gap for light to seep in so that she doesn’t get claustrophobic (the last time had not been pretty). Paul shoves the bag and all its contents back under his bed in one, swift movement. A knock sounds again. From the gap in the closet door, Ellie can see him rearranging the blankets frantically and kicking off his shoes and socks off in a single move. He reaches to click off the lamp before shuffling towards the door with his head drooping. He opens it to one of the supervisors.

“Paul? Are you okay?” Ellie hears.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, what’s going on?”

“I thought I heard some yelling coming from your room. Was that you?”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry.” Paul responds with exaggerated regret and Ellie rolls her eyes into the darkness. “I must have screamed again in my sleep. I get really bad nightmares sometimes.”

Ellie holds her breath.

“Okay, do you need anything?” The supervisor says, concerned.

  
“No, no. I’m just tired. If it’s alright with you, I’ll just go back to sleep.”

“Of course, goodnight.”

As soon as the door clicks, Ellie pushes out of the closet and into the free space again. She clicks on the lamp again and inhales deeply before spinning to face Paul, still standing by the door.

“Close call.” He murmurs, still not looking at her.

“Mhm.” Ellie crosses her arms in front of her body and they stand there in silence. Paul fidgets, but doesn’t stray from his post by the door as if Ellie’s gaze is physically keeping him there. Finally, he can’t stand the silence anymore.

“I didn’t have a choice.” He hushes. “I don’t have any way to get money, and your birthday is coming up soon, and when we finally made progress again, we lost it all. How are we going to make it out of here unless I do something?”

“Drugs, Paul?” Ellie hisses. “That’s what you choose? There are a billion other ways to make money with a lot less risk and you know that!”

“Like I said, I don’t have a _choice._ ” Paul moves towards her with his hands held out on either side, palms facing the sky. “We need this money and our time is running out. And we need more if you’re going to college-”

“Oh _drop it._ I told you I’m not going to college, dammit!” Ellie whispers furiously, stepping forward as well. They’re in each other’s faces again. “We’re doing fine. We have a decent amount saved right now, and, and. We’ll have the rest by next spring.”

“How? Ellie, you’re losing clients and don’t say that you aren’t,” he says as Ellie opens her mouth to refute him. “I’ve seen your notebook, and trust me, this will put us ahead again.”

He drops his hands to Ellie’s shoulders. “I promise this will work.”

But Ellie twists out of his grip. “Yeah, all it takes is for one job to go wrong or for you to get curious and take some of that stuff and we’ll be way worse off than we were.”

“Don’t be silly. I won’t take it.”

“That’s what they all say! It’s a risk and we have to treat it like it is! And how much is your cut anyways. There’s no way they’re going to give you a fair portion.” Ellie is getting more and more angry as the situation reveals countless potholes more like giant cliffs they could hurtle down.

“Well, it’ll be enough to cover what we need. With your money from tutoring and if I take this re-homing request while bringing in a fair share of money, we’d only need to reach $5000 and if we have extra, you can go to school.” He says excitedly, but Ellie was stuck on one word. “We could do this. Ellie?”

Ellie takes a step back, away from him and he scrunches his eyebrows together.

“What did you say?” She whispers. Her hands are out, clenching and unclenching. Paul looks at her confused and she sees the gears in his head work to recall what he had just said and the moment it clicks. The lamp flickers casting shadows across his face and in the moments of darkness, Ellie could swear she was seeing an entirely different person altogether.

“Oh shit.” Paul’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, no.”

But Ellie just continues to stand there. “You got rehomed.”

Paul looks at her with eyes pleading for understanding. “It’s not like that.”

“But answer me. Did you get rehomed or not?” Ellie cuts him off and he just stares at him as he opens his mouth and closes it with no words coming out. It was confirmation enough.

“You did.” Ellie says flatly, eyes dart to the door. Paul catches her glance and takes a step so that he’s in between her and her escape if she chooses to take it. “When were you planning to tell me?”

“I don’t want to take it. I just thought, if I did though, you could go to college…”

Tears of frustration are blurring her vision as she continues to back up. The world swirls such that Paul is just another blurry figure, indistinct and featureless.

“So you were about to take the offer, and get placed into a new home with a new family,” her back hits the wall and she shuffles slowly to the side. “All without telling me.”

Paul opens his mouth, eyes filled with regret, but Ellie continues on.

“You were about to deal drugs like every other kid on the streets and get locked up because you thought your money would be of more value to me than you?” Her shoulder bumps into the cold glass of the window and her hands come around behind her back to press against its smooth surface, creating imprints as the steam fogs up the area around her palm.

“Go be with your new family.” She spits, tears spilling down her cheeks. Behind her, her fingers fumble at the window latch. “Because as of today, we’re not family any longer.”

Before Paul could register what she was doing, she already had the window opened and then it was too late. She hears his shout, like it traveled through tons and tons of molasses, and launches herself out of the window, ignoring the way the ice pulls apart the skin of her fingers as she slides down a drainage pipe and runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! as usual, leave me some comments :)

**Author's Note:**

> okay so lot's of scene setting in this chapter. more aster/ellie interactions in the next!
> 
> as usual, leave me some comments! :)


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